No More Fighting
by NoteEmmy
Summary: Kaiba is unable to wrest control away from a darker need.


It was late. Usually Kaiba would be awake around these late hours but something had dragged him home. Probably the unrelenting sense of pride that kept him from dropping dead on his desk. His secretaries, employees, and workers didn't need to see someone so weak. He detested that he had to but eventually his body would protest too hard for him to ignore. It had been better for him to get the jump on it and just sleep at home. While it would cut productive time out of his schedule, a small part of him would have much rathered sleeping in his bed than on his desk. Weakness. But what more could he do?

It was also raining. He couldn't seem to remember it raining on the way home but now the noise pounded the grounds outside and rattled against the windows. Coming with it were streaks of lightning that illuminated the room he was in, the lights all darkened. Usually there were lights in the hall, but he could see that his door had been left open. There was nothing- no one? He wondered.

Before he could finish wondering why no one was attending the halls and why he couldn't see save for the brief times light flashed by his large windows, he wondered why he was standing. Kaiba wasn't one for sleepwalking. He'd never done it before. Yet now he realized he was standing, leaning against his dresser heavily, as if the left side of him were wounded. He realized then that he felt pained, too. Like he'd lost a struggle against someone. His entire left side felt burning and bruised. Had he been fighting with someone?

The pain crept right up from his hip, up his belly and right into his chest- no, his heart. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, almost as if he were excited and waiting for something. He tasted it then. Dark, sick satisfaction that swelled his tongue and made it hard to breathe. Whether or not he'd been fighting with someone he could feel now that he was waiting. If he had been fighting was he waiting for them to return? Maybe that's why the lights were off, using darkness to his advantage.

But that still didn't answer why he'd woken this way. He was missing a piece of memory and as he heard steps creaking down the hall he knew he didn't have time to piece it together. His adrenaline was coursing. All the previous tells gave him the notion that there was an intruder here and he'd been ample to take whoever it was down. It was possible whoever it was was after his life. His hand gripped around-

A gun. He was holding a gun. He always had weapons stashed in necessary hiding places. It didn't do him well to be without advantage in any situation. It wasn't that he had it, it was that he realized it was cold. As if he'd only just gotten a hold of it. It felt heavy and from weight alone he knew no bullets had been fired. How was that possible? Maybe his attacker had gotten the jump on him and he'd grabbed it later. Still… that made little sense to him. What was really going on here? What did that missing piece of time hold for him?

The door groaned as it was pushed open gently, slowly, someone was looking inside. This would be his only chance and his eyesight was poor, blurry, almost as if he'd been… crying. But that was the least likely of all options in this ridiculous scenario. Where did that leave him? He felt heavy, lurching forward, a command that he'd not issued.

A dream? Was this all a dream? He'd never had lucid dreams before. And he certainly wasn't in control of this one. He edged along the rest of the long dresser, his right hand digging in to the material. He was trying to hold himself back but it wasn't working. His body was working on its own, disobeying him, and soon it had the gun aimed as a shadowed figure actually entered in through the door.

The last streak of lightning brightened the room and he caught the sight of himself in the mirror.

Green hair.

Yellow sickening eyes.

He had to have been dreaming.

He only had a split second to look at who was entering his bedroom.

The ridiculous hair, the crimson eyes, no-

The sound of the gunshot broke the air and the part that didn't listen to him any longer sizzled with sick satisfaction as Atem's body slumped to the ground. Atem. Not the spirit. Not the person he was after any longer. Not the person he was any longer. How had this happened?

The shock finally allowed him to wrestle control back, the gun dropping from his hand as he bolted for the small shuddering form on the ground. Panic rose up in his gut, touched his sensibilities, threatening to throw him over again. With one arm around Atem's shoulders he raised him up just a little, other going to the now furiously bleeding wound in his chest. Why? Why had he done this?

"Seh…" Atem gulped for air, shivering violently, probably in a great deal of pain.

"Shut up." His voice was hard. At the crease of Atem's brows, the sadness that outlined and chased the look of pain away from him Kaiba realized Atem had no idea what was happening. All the other duelist knew was that he'd come in the room and Kaiba had shot him. And now was telling him to shut up. How did that really look?

…and since when had the lights come on? He could see perfectly now. No darkness covering the spaces around him any longer. No, now he could see what he'd done. How Atem was looking up at him, confused, hurt more than just physically. It was the look of someone who'd been betrayed. Kaiba swallowed the need to hyperventilate, feeling his chest go tight. The pain that had hindered him was gone now. He realized he'd been moving freely this entire time.

But what could he possibly say? What would fix this? He didn't have time for it either way. Atem would have to be left feeling deeply deceived. All Kaiba had time for was calling Isono's name and picking the smaller body up. Heading for the hospital. Keeping him from dying. He didn't have time, and for once he was grateful. Without the sense of urgency he'd think about why he'd done this, how this had happened, and he already knew he didn't like the reasons.

Once Atem was admitted then he had time. He paced the floor. He avoided looking in the mirrors. It was foolish but he was almost… scared. Scared what would look back. The green hair. The yellow eyes. Was he really losing his mind? He'd lost control. Atem had been wrong. People didn't change. His overwhelming need to defeat the duelist was always prevalent, but it had been a long time ago that that need had been to get rid of him entirely. Why now?

His eyes flicked up to the mirror, as if to challenge the notion that he was going crazy. He looked normal. Save for the water covering his eyes. Crying, again?

…again. Had he been crying the whole time? It was not something he did. Kaiba was not a person that cried. He hadn't even cried at his parents' funerals. At least not where people could see. His physical response was that of sorrow, even before he realized it. And he remembered then that it felt like something had hit him, that his body wasn't listening-

No. Ridiculous. Utterly and truly ridiculous. He wasn't taking the easy way out on this. Atem would have accepted that notion, but not him. He'd done this. It was his fault. Darker seeds of his past, those which he thought he'd crushed, so sure enough that he'd entered into a relationship with Atem… so sure…

And there he was now. The evidence of his failures in the form of Atem's blood spatters on his clothing. A deep sense of regret filled him. It choked him even and his body seemed not to want to listen to him again. But he forced it. He forced himself to turn away from the doors Atem had disappeared into. He forced himself to walk down the hallway.

He forced himself to leave. He wouldn't be sure that he could keep it from happening again. He'd been weak in the past. And he was weak now. Atem made him weak, too. Atem would do better thinking he'd tried to kill him. And he would do better alone despite the ache in his chest and the sting in his eyes.

This was the way he was meant to be. He was safer alone. And the people he cared for were safer without his presence. He'd always known. Somewhere deep inside. He'd fought that feeling, that overwhelming knowledge, for most of his life. But he couldn't fight it anymore. Not when he had evidence of how right it was now.

Kaiba had no more patience for the burn of weak, foolish tears. No more of it. No more weakness. No more Atem. No more...

No more fighting.


End file.
